Fulfilling the call of life…

The omens around me suggest me to leave everything I have. They ask me to vanish. But, I am never free. Rather, I fear to free myself. How can I think of leaving my mother in darkness for the pursuit of my writing? How can I shield away myself from every responsibility I carry and become selfish?

I know the answers that are going to pop-up. People say it’s a system where we live. This system will keep moving even if I do not exist. If I end up trying to fulfill everything around, I may not meet my passion. I do understand this clearly.

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But, I still do have a question - There must be a way where I can balance things. A way by which I can take my passion and my responsibilities equally on one boat. Isn’t that possible? I heard the majority of them say ‘no’ for this. They say it’s an illusion. They say I will only keep doing more things because new responsibilities arise every day. I will never end up finishing those, and then taking care of me.

Perhaps, this is the last attempt towards what I believe. I am going to save a few hours of a day dedicated to my passion. The responsibilities can take the majority of my time. Let me have a little few hours myself. Let me see how far I can go. Bless me God. Bless me Pappa.

The memory of writing my first poem…

People say creativity comes out of a spur of a moment. I do agree on this. I remember when I first wrote a poem. I was studying in Class 5 and was returning from school one evening. Unusually, it was a jeep instead of the school van. I sat near the door and kept watching the vehicles and people passing nearby. Towards the middle of the journey, I recognized that I was singing four lines in my mind. Unknowingly, I was repeating those lines to myself.

When I reached home, I got down from the vehicle. With no time left to think, I ran to the bedroom upstairs and stood in front of the mirror, singing and acting along that lines. I sang them aloud. I felt good. I never wanted to lose those lines. I took an old notebook and scribbled those four lines. When I finished writing the four lines, I can sense there were more lines naturally flowing to the pages. I poured everything that came to my mind into those pages and there my first poem was born.

I also remember, I wrote my first poem with a pencil instead of a pen.

P. S.: The poem was about a lady who was in jail. It described her desire to see her children.

The lost charm of April fool’s day…

Finally, April 2016 began. The word ‘finally’ used here has considerable significance since I was waiting April to arrive for last two weeks. Precisely, I was waiting since the day I made plans and schedules to work for future. April 1 was the first day to measure the progress. I began the day by going for a short morning walk. I didn’t wake up early as planned and that made me lose my first goal.

The day at the workplace was better. My boss and I are playing hide and seek that when I come to the office, he goes to another place or vice versa. So my boss wasn’t there at the office. The works went pretty slow. However, a slower pace was fine as it’s a relaxed month.

I enthusiastically started the session in the evening, only to be interrupted by a guest who left home only at 10 pm. Then, I resumed to reading book and closed my day.

An interesting thing I noticed was that nobody spoke anything about April Fool’s Day except few online posts. The only posts I remember said that ‘When your whole life is a joke, who wants an April Fool’s Day?’ Perhaps, true. I guess people are not anymore in a mood to celebrate such days. I remember my childhood days where we (friends and me) tried pranks to fool others, mostly to become the victim ourselves.

April 2 seems to be better than yesterday that I managed to wake up earlier and went for a longer 30 minutes’ walk. The day at the office is going well. Hopefully, the evening session too will be good. Despite tomorrow being a Sunday, I have decided to come to the office. I had taken three leaves last week, for which I’m planning to compensate.